


No Cure for Loneliness

by parttimefemmefatale (writingramblr)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Inspired By Tumblr, One Shot, Rock Star AU, my own prompt, the Doctor is Peter's stage name, which i then filled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:44:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1843090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/parttimefemmefatale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor, a stage name for an aging former teen-rock sensation, and Rose Tyler is sent to interview the legend, but what she finds is an alcoholic, lusty, burned out man.</p><p>He’s lost the spark that made him famous, and he’s not written any new songs in months. His world tour is failing, and a steady night gig in Vegas is the only thing paying the rent, and paying for the booze.</p><p>When Rose catches his interest, but spurns his offer of a one night stand, He finds himself suddenly writing again.</p><p>Rose suggests a vacation, which he can easily afford, and he asks her to come with him, to Paris.</p><p>Will she say yes and let herself fall a bit more for him?</p><p>[I wrote this prompt, found here, and no one responded and the muses were out for blood! http://time-spacepiratepoetoutcast.tumblr.com/post/78229791410/ ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cure for Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> i do always fail at writing titles...and this is cross posted on tumblr.
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. this is just a ONE shot! :D

"Rolling Stone is here to see you Mr. Vincent."

The Doctor, or as he was known offstage, Peter Vincent, rolled his eyes, but carefully, so his assistant and manager Donna Noble wouldn't see.

She wasn't above pinching his ear or smacking him for cheek.

But he was sick of giving interviews.

He always said the wrong thing. Then his record label would call him and yell at whoever answered.

Even if it was Donna. That meant getting a fair bit of yelling back, but still.

"You can't ride this wave much longer Peter. You're getting old."

That's what they'd all been saying. So maybe his transition from teen rock sensation to racy adult performer hadn't been smooth as the cool black leather he wore. But so what? It could have been worse. With Donna's reluctant help, they'd kept his drug use out of the papers until he'd been old enough. The drinking, not so much.

By now, he'd gotten over that rebellious phase and now he only drank after long shows and even longer tours.

Unfortunately, at the moment he'd not been booked for anything for the next month. It was actually a blessing in disguise.

He'd not been able to write anything new in the last three months.

Donna knew, as he always approached her with new material, even before speaking to his producers.

She was as close to a sister as he had.

As it was, she was his best friend from childhood Chris Noble's sister. He almost wished Chris could be there. Wished Chris could help him. But he wasn’t. He was stuck with his bossy practically related manager.  
Back in the present, she was currently waving an annoyed hand in his face.

"Yes Donna I heard you."

The redhead sputtered and glared at him,

"Well aren't you going to at least put a shirt on before they get here?"

Peter shrugged,

"Why bother? It's much easier to act the part of rebellious misunderstood star."

Donna gave him a shove and he landed a tad ungracefully into the leather seat he'd been considering sitting in. She gave him the usual no-choice.

"Fine. Just promise you won't say anything stupid. I haven't got time to do damage control. I've been trying to get a hold of your lovely song writers all morning."

Truthfully, Mickey & Martha Smith only helped fine tune any lyrics he wrote. But Peter still appreciated them.

The fact they were ignoring Donna's, and by default his calls wasn't promising.

Donna tapped a finger to his head, and he barely held back from flinching away, her nails were like talons,

"Now behave. And I'll bring you fish and chips for lunch."

Peter mumbled under his breath when she'd gone,

"On my dollar yeah."

***

No matter how many rock stars Rose Tyler was sent to interview over her year long career, she could never completely shake the Star struck feeling. She'd met U2, Adele, and most recently pint sized powerhouse Arianna Grande. But now? She was about to meet teen sensation turned adult rocker Peter Vincent, or as she called him, along with his fans, The Doctor.

Rose knew her hands were shaky, and she only gripped her pen and notepad harder. Her recorder sat in the top of her purse, and when she walked out of the elevator, having reached the penthouse where the Doctor was awaiting her, she fought back to urge to giggle.  


Professional. That was her middle name.

Until she saw him.

Lounging in a high backed leather chair, shockingly shirtless and in tight black pants, she felt her breath leave her.

She swallowed, and moved towards him, a hand extended to shake his.

***

The Doctor wasn't looking forward to pretending he had a fistful of new songs on the verge of being recorded. He wasn't the world’s worst liar, nor was he the best.

Then he heard the door open, and a petit blond shy looking girl walked in.

A bird? They'd sent a bird to interview him?

He grinned, and he knew this would be a piece of cake.

She stepped right up to him, and thrust her hand at him. Instead of shaking it, he slipped his hand over it and dragged his lips across her knuckles.

He pulled back and gave her a patent smile, the one Donna always scolded as "knicker melting."

She blinked twice and then gave a shaky smile in return, as he waved her to sit down across from him.

He stretched out in his seat, and refrained from adjusting himself. The pants he'd chosen were a bit tighter than he'd remembered.

***

Rose suddenly felt as if she'd been doused in ice water. The way he was looking at her was severely creepy. The eyeliner made him look drugged out, and a bit older than she knew him to be.

The feel of his lips on her hand had been extremely unwelcome.

She managed a smile and perched gingerly on the chair opposite him, as if mentally preparing to run at a moment's notice.

She cleared her throat and clicked her pen twice before marking the date, time and interviewee on the page.

"So, Mr. Vincent, tell me about your upcoming tour. When is it set to kick off? And what sort of new material can we anticipate?"

Rose had slipped the recorder out and switched it on before the Doctor could even form a reply.

He sat there, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water for an instant before seeming to remember where he was.

“Ah, weeell yes. My tour will be starting this fall, kicking off? Gods I dunno. I was thinking someplace big, maybe Vegas?”

He winked at her, and she looked around to make sure she wasn’t being punked. No cameras in sight. Okay so he was definitely winking _at_ her.

“Mr. Vincent, what can you tell us about your new songs?”

He winced briefly and gave her a half smile,

“Please, call me The Doctor. Makes me sound less old.”

Rose answered through gritted teeth,

“Doctor. Please tell us about your next single.”

“Well now there you’re putting words in my mouth sweetheart…I never said anything about a new single. Unless you’d like me to pop something out now?”

His hand slipped down to adjust his pants and Rose didn’t miss the implication. She rolled her eyes and switched off the recorder.

Making a note on her pad about his lack of manners, she turned to him with a forced smile,

“Doctor. If you’d like to continue this interview with someone else, who’s more impressed with your frankly appalling behavior, please, call this number.”

His eyes widened and he stood up the instant she did, not glancing at the card she held out, or even at the now dead recorder.

“Did you mean appealing? Because I thought that went well. Except for when you switched off the thingy.”

Rose shook her head,

“It’s such a shame. Here I thought you were this cool guy, but it turns out you’re just a rich, spoiled brat who’s grown up in the spotlight. Typical bloke, and typical jerk. I’m gonna have to pass the baton on this one. Good day Mr. Vincent.”

She stuck her hand out again, and this time he didn’t dare pull the stunt he had before.

He took her hand briefly, and winced at the grip she gave him.

He’d goofed.

Donna was not going to be happy.

***

“SHE SAID WHAT? AFTER YOU DID WHAT?”

The Doctor shrugged,

“I guess I came on too strong.”

Donna huffed in anger,

“You came on like a bloody wanker! How much had you had to drink before I saw you? And when I left you? How much more did you have?”

The Doctor shrugged, and tried to avoid her angry eyes. His fingers were itching to hold something, a pen to write with, or his cell phone to call Chris for help.

Donna squeezed her eyes shut, and prayed for patience.

“God help me if I have to reschedule your performance at Paris…”

The Doctor had begun to tune her out, and he leaned back in his chair, reliving the events of the afternoon, wondering where he went wrong.

***

Rose Tyler sat in her office, a small cramped affair, trying to rationalize what she’d done. At least so that it sounded viable to tell her supervising editor.

She could already imagine how it sounded. She sighed and played the recording another time, wincing at her angry voice and the loud click as the recording ended.

Maybe, there was enough material here to write a short blurb?

Rose’s head fell forward into her hands.

Or maybe she should have kept a cooler head and she’d have a full pad of notes and a decent recording.

Why did Peter Vincent have to be so frustrating?

***

“Shut up Donna. Please. I’ve got a song idea. Let me have just a couple minutes.”

Donna was only a few steps away from where the Doctor sat, and within easy slapping distance, but she refrained. The sound of desperation in his voice made her stop.

She retreated, and let him work in silence.

After almost an hour had passed, she returned to find him still scribbling.

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

He looked up at her and gave her the usual puppy eyes,

“Donna-a-a-a-a… it’s not ready yet. I need to call Chris and ask him what he thinks.”

Donna pursed her lips,

“My brother is NOT your lyricist. Mickey & Martha are. Call them!”

The Doctor pouted, and Donna was about to slap him all over again when he finally threw his head back and sighed loudly,

“Fine! Then I’m going with Chris to get a beer afterwards.”

Donna shook her head,

“Oh no you’re not. I can’t stand anymore bad PR. You’re staying right here if you wanna drink. _I’ll_ call Chris and see if he’s free. Call the Smiths!”

The Doctor scowled at her, but did as he was bid.

***

“Rose dearie! Telephone for you!”

Rose rolled her eyes, and picked up the flashing line,

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up so high they vanished into her blond hair. She knew that voice.

“Hi. Is this-?”

“Yep. Just listen, I want to apologize for this morning. I also wanted to tell you about my new single. Maybe give me a chance to sound halfway human in your piece. Is that alright?”

Rose nodded, before coming to her senses.

“Yes. Sure. Make it quick though. I’m on a deadline.”

She tried to sound fierce and full of indignation, but she failed. She was a bit too excited that Peter Vincent, the Doctor, was actually calling her at work. That ridiculous star power of his was maddening.

He began to tell her about the thing he’d been working on all through the afternoon, and she began to feel a bit hypnotized, listening to him talk.

***

Before he knew it, they’d been chatting for the whole week, he’d call her every time he finished a song, that had been approved by the Smiths, and she’d call and tell him the sample he’d sung was good.

One night, the Doctor was feeling brave, even after she’d turned him down the last three times he’d asked her out.

He knew she wasn’t the one night stand type of girl, at least not for pompous arseholes like he’d first acted when they’d met.

He found himself asking Rose if she’d come to his show, the first kickoff one, which wasn’t actually for a tour, but part of a long standing gig he’d signed on for unknowingly.

‘Thanks Donna.’ He thought, only with a minor tinge of sarcasm. She’d told him a couple days after he’d finished the first actual song he’d written in months.

Rose said no.

He was glad they were only chatting on the phone. She wouldn’t see his unattractive pout. Thought he liked to pretend it worked on everyone, only if they could see him. He was still in awe that it had worked on Donna. She must have been having a really bad day a week past.

He winced.

That would have been his fault.

“Er, well after that I’m not sure where the next stop is. What if it’s Paris France?”

He heard Rose giggle on the end of the line,

“That wouldn’t be so bad. They couldn’t understand what you were saying, you might be okay.”

He mock frowned, and then shrugged,

“Alright fair enough. But would you come if it was there?”

He held his breath, waiting for her reply.

She sighed on the other end, and his ear filled with static.

“I might. I’ve heard Paris is lovely.”

The smile that broke across his face nearly pulled a muscle. It had been ages since he’d smiled, a real true one.

“That’d be fantastic! I’d pay for everything of course.”

A laugh sounded on the other end,

“Silly. No you wouldn’t. It’s a business trip. It’s business expenses.”

The Doctor nodded, suddenly getting the idea,

“Of course. Then you can travel during the day, critic my show by night.”

“How many nights would you perform?”

“Probably three shows a week, and a couple weeks. So about six I’d say. The usual.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m not a rock star.”

“Yes, well, you interview the rock stars.”

“I don’t normally care when they perform.”

“But you do?”

“Do what?”

“You care about when I perform?”

“If I’m gonna go to a show, then yeah.”

“Just one?”

“I might get bored.”

The Doctor smiled,

“I wouldn’t let that happen, not in Paris.”

“City of light?”

“Among other things.”

Rose’s laughter filled the line again, and the Doctor could feel his stage fright nerves acting up. Was she about to spurn him again?

  
“Okay. Promise we’d go see the Eiffel tower?”

‘Oh, she’d said “we”’ he thought.

“Of course.”

“Alright deal.”

***

Within four nights, two shows, and enough chips to fill a suitcase, Rose Tyler and the Doctor were holding hands as they walked the streets of Paris.

The next night after that, he took her to the Eiffel tower, and stole a kiss. The soft, gentle kind. She wondered how she’d ever been creeped out by those lips.

When she’d not known him as she did then.

The Doctor and Rose Tyler, in Paris France, together.

The reason for his new songs, the reason he wasn’t the bane of Donna Noble’s existence anymore.

The Doctor knew it was only a matter of time before he wrote a sappy love song for her, and she’d laugh at his poor poetry, and secretly be thrilled it was all hers.

Rose let him keep the eyeliner, but had him ditch the leather pants.

Leather looked better on him as a jacket, which she could frequently steal.

***

**END**


End file.
